10/14/2017
If there is one thing for certain, it’s this. I share everything. I tell you of my pain. I tell you when I’m happy. I don’t hold back. 

I do, however avoid sharing too many details. 

Some readers may have read my blog titled “he”. I am seeing someone. I’m not going into detail again, you can check out the blog that talks about him. I say it here, to drive home the fact that I blog about everything. 

Tonight, I am at a bar, as I type, in Lawrence, Kansas. It’s called RBar. The last time I was here, Mitch was here. 

It was snowing. 

Kody was our driver. Roni sat shotgun. Mitch and I rode in the back seat. 

I’m here. 

As we walked in, from the lot across the street, memories flooded me. Mitch was so bored here, that night. (Until he got some drinks in him, and lit up he room) We people-watched and laughed at people. Not very nice, I know. But, that’s what we did. We didn’t laugh at anything that couldn’t be controlled, but we were laughing at the drunk ones that were acting like fools. His pseudo gout was starting to flare up, and he was annoyed with it. No-one knew, but me, because that’s the kind of man he was. That is the kind of man he will always be remembered as. 

I am, literally, sitting at a table, by myself, right now, to type about this. 

I was asked if I was okay,  just now, and had to convince the girl that I blog, and the urge to write hit me, right now, so I HAD to do it! 

She said okay, and went on about her drinking. 

So, the last time I was at that particular bar, (in an Uber, now!) Mitch was there. He was annoyed. He didn’t like hanging out with super young people. He just wanted to sit down, and have a drink. He wanted to be an “old man” as he referred to himself, more often than anyone would realize. 

He was 34,  yes .

He complained, often, that he felt like he was 69, because of his pseudo gout, and everything making living incredibly uncomfortable. 

But, damnit, if Mitch wasn’t one of the most positive human beings in the world…

When I think about Mitch, I think about him, the way he wanted me to: Alive, Funny, and happy. 

Sometimes, like I’ve talked about before, it throws me off, because, out of the blue it’ll slam me, right in the chest: “no more…” 

No more. 

Two simple words, that have such a huge meaning. 

Two simple words, that can break me, if thought at just the right moment. 

Two words…

Two words that, I am sure, will randomly pop into my mind, for the rest of my life. 

I often wonder what goes through the minds of his family, when they think about him. And I mean, I wonder what their phrase is, that catches them off guard. I know, it is fact, that when we think of his living being, it’s always happy.  Always funny. There’s always a joke, a movie line, song lyric, or an action that makes us all laugh or cry. That’s fact.

 I choose laughter. Sometimes, tears choose me, though. I try not to stop the tears when they do come. I just let them flow. 

I choose to miss him, and continue to love him, and remember him. I choose to carry him on, through memories, and talking about him. No one who ever met him will ever forget him. 

No one I meet will leave without knowing him, through me, and/or through Megan. 

His life was one full of love, laughter, and fun. 

I choose to remember. 

I choose to put one foot in front of the other, every single day. 

I choose to smile. 


 

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